Five Times the Winchesters Were Werewolves
by KatiKat
Summary: Drabbles and ficlets about the Winchesters being werewolves. Gen, angst, humor.
1. Chapter 1

**Five Times the Winchesters Were Werewolves**

**by Katikat**

Disclaimer: The characters belong to the CW and Eric Kripke. No money is being made here.

Notes: Can you tell that I love werewolves?

John Winchester had never longed for a pack. He had never wanted to run with the others, to howl to the moon. For John, the lycanthropy was a curse. After the wolf-like creature had mauled him back there, in Viet Nam, he almost swallowed his gun.

But he learned how to live with it, giving in to his nature only when the moon was full and shone brightly in the dark sky. When there was no other choice.

Sam was a lot like him, detesting the unnatural state of their being.

But Dean's heart and soul belonged to the wolf.

---

John had hoped that his children wouldn't inherit the curse and for five years nothing strange had happened, the boys remaining human children at all times, no paws nor tails surprising their unknowing mother.

But then the demon came and killed his Mary and suddenly, John had his arms full of a crying infant and a squirming, howling, inconsolable puppy.

For a whole month he begged and pleaded and cajoled before the puppy turned back into his Dean again, but since then, his eldest had never been the same, never forgetting the warmth and freedom of running on four legs.

---

Sam never understood Dean. He never understood what was so alluring about looking like, and behaving like, an animal, sprouting paws and teeth and fur and a tail once month, let alone undergoing such a change under his own volition almost every night, sleeping curled up on the bedcovers, nose tucked under a bushy tail.

Honestly confused, he asked his older brother one night before shutting off the light. Dean raised his great silvery head, his sad eyes trying to express what Sam would never understand.

Being a werewolf meant having a pack, a family and never being alone.

---

The dry grass rustled and swished softly under the great paws of the silvery white wolf as he padded up the cliff. The night was clear and so bright.

Dean threw his head back and howled, the sound so heart-breaking that every living creature stilled.

They had left him. His little Sam… his Dad… He had lost his small pack, the pack that nobody cared for but he. And the emptiness his reluctant pack mates left behind was tearing his soul apart.

And so he sang all his sorrow to the moon. To the only friend who was willing to listen.

---

Sam never liked shifting. He never shifted voluntarily, never enjoyed the feeling, the freedom.

But when Dean curled up on the bed covers in the cheap motel room, his failing heart forcing the change upon him, Sam didn't hesitate.

Shedding his clothes, Sam surrendered to his wild side, shifting. He hopped on the bed and pressed himself against his shivering brother who watched him with hooded, pain-filled eyes. Sam felt Dean's heart flutter weakly and he nuzzled his brother, whining softly and cooing soothingly, hating his own helplessness and this sickness, the enemy that his sharp teeth couldn't tear apart.

The End


	2. Chapter 2

Title: **Five Times the Winchesters Were Werewolves, part 2**  
Author: KatiKat  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and Eric Kripke.  
Genre: Gen  
Words: Almost 1000  
Warnings: None  
Rating: PG-13  
Notes: My big thank-you goes to my wonderful beta yamitai!  
Notes2: Yeah, this is a continuation of my Were!chesters drabbles. This time a bit longer.

Sam doesn't have the stomach to kill rogue weres, no matter how evil they are. He says that it feels too much like killing a human being, someone of the same species. And that's always been a taboo for him.

So whenever they come across a renegade werewolf, Dean hunts alone. It's much more dangerous and Sam does always offer to go with him but Dean is determined to keep Sam safe – for reluctant hunter is a dead hunter. For him, anyone who doesn't belong to his pack, is a free game. And if it maybe pains him too, if it makes his heart ache and his stomach roll, he keeps it to himself.

But when Dean returns back to their motel room, to their car or to any other place they call their temporary base but never home, bloody and torn after a terrible but victorious fight, Sam is always there, with his gentle hands that sooth Dean's pains and sew his wounds and the last sliver of innocence that he managed to keep just a little while longer makes Dean feel his sacrifice is worth it.

---

Dean hasn't felt such a pain since that crazy were in Minnessota almost tore him apart. The demon with their Dad's face left deep, bleeding claw marks on his chest.

He feels Sam lifting him, sliding behind him, resting him against that broad chest. He hears his brother and Dad talking about blood loss and hospitals in hushed voices and he thinks: _No, no hospitals, they are not for people like us who turn feral when their body weakens. _

But Sam murmurs to him some nonsense and then he feels his brother drawing strange symbols on his skin with Holy water. And suddenly, he is a prisoner of his own body, unable to shift, unable to take on animal form. He wimpers, eyes squeezed shut, back arching, because it feels like he can't breath and his skin is too small for him.

Sam runs his hand up and down his trembling arms, trying to calm him down, promising in a soft voice: „It's okay. I know. It's okay. It's only for a little while. I promise." Then he chuckles. „We can't have you scaring the doctors, can we?"

And Dean thinks _To Hell with the doctors_, but then the blood loss, the pain catches up to him, the sounds retreat and he slumps in his brother's arms, trusting that Sam'll take care of him, that he'll keep him safe.

---

„This is a new low, even for us," Sam mutters. He pushes the sun glasses up his nose and joins the long queue in leading up to the court house and the metal detectors.

His brothers pads beside him in his wolf form but the short he gives, sounds almost human. Sam can almost hear his thoughts: _Dude, and how do you think _I_ feel?_

Sam shoots Dean a side glance and feels almost sympathetic. Almost. Because all that has been Dean's idea in the first place. And when he remembers how it went…

_„Dude, you have to be kidding me," Sam hisses as he eyes the harness and all the other accessories Dean got just God knows where._

_Dean gifts him with his blinding smile, all teeth and sparkling eyes. „It's the perfect idea. I shine, man!" _

_Sam eyes his brother, like he finally lost his mind. „You want us to go in as a blind guy with a seeing dog?"_

„_Don't say I'm no genius. The cops are looking for two guys, not for a blind dude with a dog." _

_Sam covers his eyes with his hand and groans. Only his brother. _

And the cops even hold the door for them!

---

„Sammy, get out of the clothes!"

Sam is dripping with river water, his soaked clothes already stiffening with frost, and his teetch chatter so loud that he almost doesn't even hear his brother. He stands there, his eyes blank, his minds still with the black dog they chased.

In the end, Dean loses his patience with him and starts tearing the wet clothes from his body. Sam finally gets what his brother wants from him and tries to help, but his numb fingers get mostly in the way.

The jeans, the shirt and everything else ends on a messy pile and Sam stands there naked and pale and he shivers so hard that his whole body shakes as if in seizure. He notices dully that Dean is stripping too but his mind is too muddled for him to…

„Shift!" Dean snaps loudly.

Sam frowns. „Huh?"

„For Christ's sake, Sammy." Dean catches Sam's face in both of his hands, looks him directly in the eyes and repeats, slowly and clearly. „Shift. Into. Your. Wolf form. Now… Or I swear to God that I'll kick your ass!"

Oh, I can do that, Sam thinks and lets the beast within free…

And when finally the morning comes, it finds two wolves curled up together under the low hanging branches of an evergreen, sleeping off their night's adventure, warm and cozy.

---

Dean sits in the passenger seat, shifting very carefuly as to not scratch the upholstery with his wolf claws. He has his head stuck out of the rolled down window and as the landscape blurs by, he squints his eyes against the wind, ears flattened, tongue lolling. He looks relaxed, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

„Dude, you'll swallow a bug or something," Sam warns from behind the wheel but secretly, he is delighted to see his brother like this, untroubled and happy.

Dean huffs and Sam would bet that it was meant to be a rude comment of some sort.

„Don't say I didn't warn you," Sam adds in a singsong voice.

Just a normal day for two werewolves and one Impala on the road.

The End


End file.
